No, we’re going back to the stable. He’d slowed down and she managed to jump off him. It wasn’t wrong. Sometimes you have to give up a little to win. She glanced back at Reardon and Masenak and she wished she hadn’t. Masenak was smiling, but Reardon’s exultant expression was triumphant. She shivered. Evil. Pure evil. She’d thought Masenak was terrible, but she had an idea Reardon was a devil incarnate. As well as having power over Masenak to shape his treatment of her and what happened at Jubaldar during the next days. She had never felt this helpless when dealing with Masenak.

It was not little. You’re shaking again. But Chaos was letting her lead him from the track. I don’t think I can let it happen again.

*  *  *

Sasha had to stop a moment to get her breath after she’d finished feeding and watering Chaos and Nightshade. Slow down, she told herself. She’d done all she could for the time being. She’d been working hurriedly, trying not to think, because she was dreading going to the suite for another encounter with Masenak and Reardon. But she had to face it.

Alone.

Gilroy hadn’t come last night. She really hadn’t expected him; had even told Alisa she shouldn’t let him come. He must have heard about Reardon’s arrival and known Nightshade was here and she might be having to make adjustments. But she had still found herself waiting.

Just as she had this evening.

But this evening if he came, he might find her gone. He’d never been able to get here before almost nine. It was almost six thirty and she had no intention of being late and giving Reardon a reason to go on the attack.

She left the stable and hurried across the courtyard and up to her suite. The outfit Reardon considered “suitable” was draped on the bed, and it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. A simple white pleated tunic, tan trousers, sandals instead of boots. She ducked into the shower, was out and dressed in fifteen minutes, and then was running toward Masenak’s quarters.

“Right on time.” It was Reardon who opened the door. He said over his shoulder to Masenak, “I told you she’d be prompt. She’s very smart and wouldn’t want any immediate confrontation.” He pulled her into the suite. “Now let’s see how she looks before we sit down to dinner.” He tilted his head as he gazed at her from head to toe. “Not bad. That loose white shirt makes you look a couple of years younger, which I prefer. But the hair is all wrong.” He grasped her wrist and dragged her in front of a mirror over the sideboard. “But I can take care of that, pretty Sasha,” he whispered as he quickly began to unfasten her ponytail.

*  *  *

9 P.M.
44 Hours to Race Time